


If You Kiss Me

by TheBigLoserQueen



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: FrUK, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slash, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-03
Updated: 2011-12-03
Packaged: 2018-02-03 01:42:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1726553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBigLoserQueen/pseuds/TheBigLoserQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>England thinks he and France are only together because it's convenient. France convinces him that their relationship is much more than the other nation thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Kiss Me

He wasn't sure why. He understood the how part of his current situation. It was easy for him to recall what had happened, even though he wished it was one of those forgotten nightmares. Sadly though, it was not. If it was, he wouldn't be moaning and crying out in pleasure under his long-time rival France during the nighttime. With every thrust he made, England couldn't hold himself back and would moan instantly. The Frenchman only hit good spots.

England knew how this happened. He went to drink; it wasn't one of his better ideas, but he wanted to get wasted. America had brought up some best forgotten memories at the end of a World Meeting, way back during the Age of Imperialism. France just happened to be there when he got wasted. Claiming to want to "help a cute drunk in need," he helped him back to England's hotel room. England wasn't exactly sure what happened, but when he came back to his senses, he found himself being thrusted into by his rival and found himself moaning in response.

Though he hated to admit it, France was good-looking. There was no denying the blonde's charm and looks; if one said he wasn't handsome, then they had to be blind. Another thing England hated admitting was that his rival was skilled – very skilled. Even when he was drunk, he could tell. Maybe that's why he allowed this relationship to continue. Whenever England felt like he needed – no… correction on that. Whenever he felt like he wanted to do it, he'd call over France, and he would be pleasured all night long by the handsome blonde. Though his male pride was damaged by bottoming, the overall pleasure overruled his pride in an instance.

However, there was one thing the Briton would not allow and that was kissing. Kissing is something those in love do, is something people do when they are in a romantic relationship. He and France were in neither. It was physical and would probably always stay that way. He most certainly did not like the Frenchman, and he knew his rival would say the same about him. It was a mutual hate that had shared fantastic physical chemistry.

So there he sat in his hotel room, staring out the window and across the way, he could see the Eiffel Tower. He hated when the World Meetings were held in France only because it reminded him of his current situation. He understood how he became France's bed partner and understood that this relationship had gone on for a really long time. He just didn't understand why he let it go on. True the man made him feel something he never felt before in bed, but his heart didn't go "pitter-patter" or skip a thousand beats a minute when they passed each other's presence. However, he got a bit edgy when France would flirt with people around him. It frustrated him to no end, so now he believed was a good time to end it. His male pride had taken enough damaged, hadn't it? He was sure France would like to be free to be with someone else, someone that wasn't him; France was sure to agree. The thought made his chest sting, which frustrated him even more. He rubbed his eyes and stared at the tea on the table. "What the bloody hell is wrong with me?" he grumbled.

As though on cue, he heard a knock on the door. He sighed and got up from his chair. He walked to the door and when he opened it, he wasn't too surprised to see a nicely dressed France. He sighed and left the door opened, which the other nation took as an okay to come in. He shut the door behind him. "What's wrong, mon cher?"

"We need to talk about… us."

France sighed and slumped himself down on the couch. "Well, what is it?"

England sat down on the bed across from the couch, a safe distance from the perverted rival who enjoyed sex more than eating. "Have you… met anyone recently? Like a cute girl or two?"

He laughed. "Mon cher, I meet cute girls all the time."

"Well, have you met any girls that you would consider… being with?"

France blinked and cocked his head a bit, staring straight into the green, unshaken eyes. He was sure he had heard wrong, but in truth, England hadn't stuttered. He ran a hand through his hair and chuckled. "So… you're tired of me? Did you find someone else to be your bed partner?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I thought you'd be glad about this. After all, you seemed annoyed when I called you over here. Were you in the middle of a date?"

"No, I was with Antonio and Gilbert."

"Whatever. Look, let's end this. We obviously don't like each other, and I'm sure you of all people would prefer to be with someone other than me. Sorry for calling you out of your outgoing. You can leave now."

However, the French nation made no sign of moving. He just stared at the Englishmen with wide eyes, shock completely filling them. He knew Prussia was dense when it came to love, but this was just pathetic. Was England really that oblivious? He rubbed his eyes and slowly rose to his feet, laughing. England blinked. "Francis?"

"Mon cher… you're really dense," he chuckled. His laugh was not humorous; it sounded frustrated even, which caused the Briton to be even more confused.

"Excuse me?" he demanded, standing up as well. "What the bloody hell is that suppose to mean?"

France seized his shoulders and shoved him on the bed. England gave out a small cry of surprise and then stared up in confusion and alarm as his enemy crawled on top of him. He pushed against his shoulders, but France was surprisingly stronger. England glared at him. "What? You want one last fuck or something? The answer's no, you frog. Now get off."

"You really just don't get it, do you Angleterre?"

England blinked. "What are you – Mmm?!" England's cry was cut off when the Frenchman's lips suddenly pressed on his. His eyes widened in both confusion and fury. Was the nation drunk or something? He thought he had made it very clear that their relationship was done and that they weren't lovers, so therefore they didn't kiss. Maybe France really was just stupid. He shoved his enemy off of him and wiped his mouth as he panted. "What the hell was that?! Are you stupid or something?!"

"You seriously didn't notice my feelings this entire time?"

"What feelings, you git?'

France chuckled bitterly. "Oh mon cher… I really don't think you want to hear it."

"Well, I already know you want to say something, so out with it already." He folded his arms across his chest, glaring daggers at him.

France ran a hand through his hair, a bit frustrated with the younger nation's denseness. Was he just playing dumb or was he really this stupid? "Je t'aime mon cher," he said irritably. "Je t'aime."

The Englishman went quiet. His arms fell unfolded from his chest and fell on his thighs. He stared at France with wide eyes and his mouth agape, his cheeks lighting up a bit. Now it was his turn to be shocked. He may have not have spoken the language well, but he understood what a few words and phrases meant in French. "I love you" one was of those phrases. That couldn't be right though. They had been rivals for centuries. Love did not exist, or at least not in his part it didn't. It had to be the same for France thought. It just had to be.

England shook his head, never looking away from him. "No… Bollocks."

France seized his chin. "No Arthur… It's not." He stroked his cheek, which was slowly turning crimson with anger, confusion, and embarrassment. "Why would sleep with someone I hated? I've always loved you…" He pushed him back down on the bed, holding down his wrists firmly. "I love you. I don't know what else to tell you."

"How about 'I'm just kidding?'" England growled. "'There's no way I'd love someone as difficult as you.'"

France frowned and moved his face closer so that their lips were only a few inches apart. "Well, I love someone as difficult as you… And I know you're in love with me too."

England's face lit up. "Like hell I am!" He thrashed against the Frenchman, but he couldn't yank his wrists free. France had him pinned down good and it looked like he wasn't budging anytime soon.

"Listen to me Angleterre," he said sternly. "If you didn't love me, why would keep calling me to have sex? Why were you always jealous when I was with other people? That's love, non?"

"I only had sex with you for a good fucking!" he howled. "Other than that, you're nothing! And I didn't get jealous! I was just irritated by your need to be so bloody flirtatious!"

"S'il vous plaît mon cher… Look at me and tell me this – if you really didn't love me, why are you freaking out about it?"

"Because you're pinning me down on my bed and you look like you want to do it!"

France attacked England's lips again and kissed them until they swelled into a delicious pink color. He released one of his wrists and moved his hand over to the younger nation's tie. He undid easily and used it to tie England's wrists together. He pulled away from the other lips, who gasped out, "What the fuck are you doing?!"

He took advantage of the hot open mouth presented to him and slipped in his tongue. England squirmed against the kiss, not anticipating it. He shoved his tied hands against the other's chest, but was easily overpowered by his skill. When they would get together, a few caresses and stroked to his skin got England to submit to him. His cheeks were red as he felt their tongue fight with each other, one trying to dominate and the other trying to resist. They exchanged hot breath and they tasted each other's mouth. France tasted like wine, which England didn't particularly like but had to admit it tasted sweet. He still weakly pushed against the Frenchman and tried to kick him, which didn't work out.

France's lips moved to his neck, licking and tasting the sweet, pale skin. England arched his back a bit. "Francis…! Stop it!"

"Non," he said strongly. "I will not stop." He stretched his hand up the nation's shirt and gently brushed his hand across his nipple. He chuckled against the skin as he continued to rub and pinch the now erect spot of flesh. "Besides, just look at yourself. You know you want it too. Just give into it. I promise…" He kissed the beautiful neck. "I will love so fiercely that you'll have to realize you're in love with me."

England shivered as the older nation unbuttoned his shirt, exposing his bare trembling chest to hungry eyes. His blush brightened as the lips left the neck and traveled down to the chest. He let out small gasps and whimpers, trying his absolute best not to moan or cry out in pleasure. If he made any kinds of noises like that, France would really believe he was in love with him too. He wasn't though. France was his rival and sex friend. England didn't like him, just his skills. That was only reason that he allowed them to be together. He kept repeating that over and over in his head as he gasped out when his right nipple was pinched and the other was being nibbled on. He bit his bottom lip, biting down hard on it in attempt to contain his voice. France didn't like that and pulled away from the trembling body. He caressed the other's lips in concern. "Don't bite down so hard mon amour… You'll cut your lip open."

Green eyes glared angrily into blue ones and hissed, "Mon amour my arse… I'm just another one of your fucks…"

The French nation shook his head. "Je t'aime Arthur… I've already said this, non?" He slowly ran his hand down from his beloved's lips to his stomach. He felt England flinch below him. He chuckled. "It's okay if you can't hold your voice in. I want to hear it."

"Shut it you bearded bastard…!" he choked out. He threw his tied hands over his face, trying to hide the blush that had taken full control of his cheeks and was not going to die down anytime soon. He just wanted France to hurry up and get on with it. Yet, he knew the pervert had a thing for foreplay. He was going to suffer in a few moments.

The cool hand with the long finger trailed down to his belt, where it was effortlessly unbuckled and pulled off. England shuddered and growled, "Do you really have to do this?"

France kissed his temple, causing the man beneath him to flinch. "Oui. You will enjoy it mon cher. I know you will."

He kissed and nibbled on the man's right nipple and teased the other with his hand. His other free hand unbuttoned and unzipped England's pants just before sliding the hand down his underwear. England let out a small cry, which was the last thing he wanted. France brought out the cute and growing shaft out for both of them to see. Then, very slowly and tortuously, he wrapped his fingers around the erection and began to pump it, moving his hand slowly up and down the thick arousal. England let out a shaky gasp which quickly turned into a sharp moan. He slammed his hands against his mouth. There was no way in hell he was going to moan. He wasn't supposed to be enjoying this; he was supposed to hate every single touch, lick, and kiss. He didn't though. He loved it and craved for more than teasing touches. He wanted to be filled to the brim and feel like he was on the brink of insanity. The small little brushes on his erection weren't working for him and neither were the mocking pinches and licks on his chest. Another moan escaped his lips as France began to stroke him a bit faster, a digit or two rubbing against his sac. He lightly dragged his nails up the length, which began to twitch and jerk in response. England's stubbornness slowly began to leave him and he let out moans of nothing but pleasure. His body soon felt like he was on fire. Only France made him feel like this; as much as he hated it, he could only feel this kind of pleasure with the French nation.

France released his nipple and moved his lips to the sexy, cute mouth. He pressed them together, slipping his tongue in as soon as England moaned. France laughed to himself. He had fallen so hard for the enemy nation, hadn't he? England had been right; he would prefer to be with someone other than him. He was a difficult man and a stubborn one to add to that. Yet, no one else satisfied him. He had tried to find other people – both men and women alike. No one could satisfy him in bed the way his England did. He began to hang around the nation more, slowly beginning to realize he enjoyed being in the other's presence. He liked watching him get flustered, get embarrassed when he said something "vulgar and inappropriate." It was cute and the Briton's blush was something he began to grow to like more than just his body. It started out with his blush, then it moved on to his normal voice, his laugh, his tears – he fell hard for the nation. He knew the love was hopeless though, so he never brought it up. He figured England knew anyway and that was why he kept their sex friend relationship going. He thought the other continued it out of pity. He was fine with it, since he didn't realize think their relationship would end so quickly.

He frowned a bit when he thought about. He pulled back his lips and stared down at the blushing, hot angel, whose had tears leaking out of the corner's of his eyes. His hand still continued to stroke him and he could feel it jerk as his fingers were starting to get pre-cum on them. He kissed England's temple. "Arthur… Why did you want to break this relationship off? Could it be you were unsatisfied?"

England was being drowned in a heated pleasure and missed what the Frenchman whispered. "What…?!" he panted out, trying to focus. Then he moaned as France squeezed the leaking tip. "Francis! No…! Ah! Don't do that…!"

"Why did you want to break this relationship off with me?" he repeated. "Were you unsatisfied?"

"You git…! That wasn't it…!" He groaned as he felt France's hand on his chest again, stroking and rubbing his nails against his nipple. "No…! Don't tease me!"

"Then what made you want to break this off, hm?" His lips slowly licked down the man's chest, stomach, and then his lips hovered over the leaking length. He breathed on it, which caused the man beneath him to give a delicious shriek.

"If you're going to suck it…!" England hissed. "Then do it…!"

France sighed. "You're so unromantic…" Then he whispered, barely pecking the length, "Answer my question and maybe I'll continue." He flicked the tip with his tongue.

"Damn it Francis…!" he growled. "Fine…! I'll tell you – ah!" His erection was suddenly taken in by France's mouth, who wasted no time slowly and meanly moving his tongue around the shaft. "Perverted bastard…! Let me…! AH! Explain for fuck's sake!"

France pulled away to whispered, "Just explain while I'm blowing you." Then he took it right back into his mouth, tasting the clear liquids that were flowing out of the head.

The other nation moaned and then panted. Trying but unsuccessful in the hot wet mouth his organ had entered, he panted out, "Being with you…! It's really irritating…! This relationship damages my male pride, damn it…! I'm the fucking woman and I hate it…! You just…! Make me so uneasy and…! I get sick of you…! Flirting all the fucking time…! I'm done…! I'm just bloody done with you…!" Then he groaned in pleasure as France sucked harder and rubbed his sac, fingering it and squeezing it as he licked the erection lovingly. "Damn it…! Francis…! I'm coming…!"

France just closed his eyes and smiled a bit, just before he heard his beloved Briton sing in ecstasy as he splurted into the Frenchman's mouth. He drank the creamy white substance and pulled away from the man's cock. He licked the remains off his lips, causing England to blush and bury his face into his hands. "You don't have to do things like that…!"

He just smirked as he pulled off his jacket and threw it on the floor. Then he whispered, "Angleterre ... Rien que te regarder m'excite." He slowly pulled off England's pants and underwear, kissing down the sexy pale legs as he did so. He was rewarded with cute little cries of surprise from the younger nation, who still had his face in his hands. He tossed the articles of floor next to his jacket. He put his lips to the other's ear and whispered, "You have any lube?" He licked the man's ear.

England shook his head, removing his hands from his face. He glared at him, tears in his eyes, panting uncontrollably, cheeks as red as roses, and his hair sexually messed up. France couldn't stop his pants from getting tighter as he watched him, his breathing growing heavy. Could he get any harder?

"Unlike you…!" the Englishman spat. "I don't carry…! that kind of stuff with me…!"

He just did.

Then he sighed. Looks like they were just going to have to make do with what they had available, even though he would prefer to have a lube. Normally, he'd carry lubricants in his jacket pockets, but he wasn't expecting to get called out so suddenly. He put three fingers to England lips and growled, "Suck, mon cher."

Greedily, he took the digits into his mouth, licking them slowly and coating them with his salvia. If France were not so experienced, he would've shoved his full grown erection into England's ass without any regrets. He breathed heavily as he watched the man sucked the fingers nicely, each lick from the small sexy tongue sending bolts of pleasure to his body. He didn't think he could last much longer, but he had to keep this up. He wanted the man to only feel pleasure, to make him take back his words on breaking off the relationship. He wanted him to break, to admit his feelings he was obviously unaware of.

When he felt the fingers were covered well, he pulled them away from the delicious tongue. He spread the man's legs far apart and pushed in the first finger without hesitation. England jerked and was about to cry out, but he bit down hard on his tied hands. France noticed his discomfort and began to once again pump the growing hardness. He slowly let the nation adjust to the weird feelings inside, but luckily was used to it in a few moments. He slipped another finger in and England let out a groan. He continued to moan into his hands as France began to slowly scissor and stretch his insides. It was a bit uncomfortable at first, like it always was, but he was distracted by the hand at his cock. Soon, the third digit followed and pressed against his walls, hitting good spots and drowning out any signs of discomfort. France hoped England was ready, seeing as though he probably couldn't hold out much longer.

He pulled his fingers out and whispered, "Mon amour… Are you ready for it?" He pulled out his hard length and slowly guided it to England's entrance. He barely poked at him. "You want it inside of you, non? How bad do you want it?"

"Damn it…!" England snarled. "Put it in…! AH! Francis…! Please!"

Tortuous for both nations, France said, "Maybe if you admit you love me, I might."

"No…! Fucking way in hell…!" He gasped and then cried out as his arousal was teased more. "Stop it…! Ugh! Franc-AH! No…!"

He couldn't bare it. The teasing, the mean touches – this wasn't what he wanted, what he needed. He needed to be filled with France. He needed to feel him inside of him, hitting his prostate over and over again and sending him into a white haze of unexplainable rapture. This was only ever with France. Of course England had a few (very few) more bed partners, but only with Francis did he ever feel satisfaction. Did that make it love? "The hell it did," England snarled at his thoughts. He wasn't in love with him; his skills he may have been, but England did not love his enemy nation. He wasn't jealous when France would flirt; he was merely irritated by the pompous wine-freak. That was it, wasn't it? It had to be. He only allowed this because he wanted the sex–

England caught himself. He called over France tonight to call off the relationship. True, he didn't really want it to end. His chest did sting a little when he thought about how now France was free to be with other people and not have to worry about getting called over. The thought hurt him. Whenever he saw France flirting, all he could see was himself beating the skulls of the people France was with. Wasn't that a definition of jealousy? "No!" he screamed in his mind. "No it's not, damn it!" He knew though; he knew. France was right, but like hell he would admit that to him or even to himself.

France couldn't wait for an answer any longer. He broke through England's thoughts and slowly pushed in. England arched his back a bit and moaned. The man's length easily pushed past the tight rings of muscles inside of him. He moaned into his hands and felt France's hand leave his cock to seize his waist and pull him in closer. Then as his filled the Briton's hole, he was greeted with a long, loud moan that made his length twitch. Tears of pleasure were sliding out of England's eyes and he panted wildly. France stayed still for a moment, letting him adjust to his size, to the discomfort that filled him.

"Je t'aime tellement mon cher…" France whispered against the man's ear. "Je t'aime…" He didn't expect an answer back. Obviously, England was not going to tell him what he was really feeling and he would just have to accept it. Just another thing that came with the price of loving his enemy – pure denial from the love he shared as well.

Then England, his voice quivering, whispered back, "H-hey… Un-untie me…"

France did as asked and slowly released England's wrists free from the tie. Thinking he was going to punch him hard, he winched back a bit in anticipation. Much to his surprise though, England brought himself up and wrapped his arms tightly around his neck. His eyes widened as England dug his nails into his back, probably tearing his shirt a bit. He didn't care though as he rested a hand against the man's lower back and held him close. "Arthur?"

"Wine bastard…!" he spat out. "You better mean what you said…! If you stop loving me…! I'm going to make you pay…! You better remember this…!"

France was still for a second and then laughed. "I've loved you for over a century mon amour… I don't think I won't." He kissed England's temple. "Does this mean you love me too…? Are we lovers now?"

"You're somewhat smart…! You figure it out…!"

Francis sighed. "Geez… You're so unromantic." He slowly pulled off his shirt, causing his chest to be revealed and England to turn even redder.

"You already told me – AH!" England was pinned back down to the bed as France pulled out almost all the way just before slamming right back into him. "Not so fast…! Ugh! Wait…! Francis…! AH!"

"Non; I'm not waiting any longer," he said huskily. Then he picked up a fast and brutal pace, his cock pushing deep within the man. Each thrust was harder and made England moan louder. The more he rammed inside him, the tighter it got. The muscles kept contracting, trying to hold onto the hot thickness that kept entering. They tried getting him to stay inside, to hold it in place so he could feel the pleasurable contractions. It wasn't happening.

France gritted his teeth together as he pushed in as far as he could go. He slammed against the Englishman's prostate, who screamed out in pure pleasure. France smirked; he loved hearing that cry. He slammed into it again, causing another moan from his new lover. England kept moaning as he kept thrusting into his hot moist hole, hitting that pleasure spot each time. He clawed his nails deep into France's biceps and arched his back. Never had he felt this much pleasure. Was it because they weren't just sex friends anymore? He guessed that must have been it, even though he wouldn't say it out loud. He just moaned as he felt a hand back on his dick and lips at his neck and chest. "Francis…! Ugh! AHH! Please…! I'm going to cum…!"

"Wait a little more," he groaned.

"I can't…!" he choked out. "Please…! I want to cum…!" He seized France's face and locked their lips together. It was a sloppy attempt, but France didn't care. He dominated the kiss and stroked faster. He wanted them to cum together, to have them both release so they'd both experience a white haze of pleasure.

Then, he finally slammed on last against the small bundle of nerves, and they broke the kiss as England screamed. His insides contracted violently and squeezed France tightly. Pleasure radiated throughout their bodies, unable to hold their seed inside any longer. England jerked and bucked his hips, splurting violently into the strong hand and his vision fading to white as he had his orgasm. France soon followed him by groaning in satisfaction as he climaxed inside the man and felt his length be surrounded by his hot, white sperm. He fell on top of him and wrapped his arms tightly around him. He buried his face into the sexy, sweaty neck, kissing it gently. "Arthur… I love you… I really love you."

England grumbled something.

France chuckled a little, moving his lips up to his forehead. "What was that, mon cher? I couldn't hear you."

He mumbled, "You better be only doing this me… I'll kill you if you don't."

The nation of love just chuckled. "So… you're admitting we're lovers?"

He blushed a bit and glared. "Fine…. Whatever you wanna call us. Just don't tell anybody else. Last thing you or I need is someone coming up to us and reporting this to the entire world." He hugged the older nation back shyly and awkwardly. "Now shut up frog and go to sleep."

"You mean you don't want to do it again?" France barely pecked his lips. "I thought you liked to do it more than once. When we were still sex friends, we were at it all–"

England seized his face and pressed his lips on the other's, which got him to shut up and kiss back with a light passion. Then he pulled back to see a small smirk on his lover's face. "Maybe if you can get me in the mood, we can."

France smirked too. "I'm pretty sure I can." Then he descended down and attacked the sexy smirk again, smiling into the kiss as well as his lover.


End file.
